I bend down to pick up the glass pieces at the same time Bjørn rises from the booth, and strides over. He crouches down and grips my hands. “You’ll cut yourself,” he says, his brows furrowed in concern.

  I glower at him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving today?”

  “I am,” he replies. Shirley brings over a dustpan and hand broom, and places it on the floor. Right. I have a mess to clean up.

  “Let me clean this up, and I’ll be right with you, your highness.” At the bite in my tone, Bjørn’s frown deepens.

  “I couldn’t tell you,” he says quietly, looking around to make sure no one heard me. “I’ve been called back to my home country, otherwise I would be staying here longer.”

  I huff. “It doesn’t matter, Bjørn. Go take a seat, I’ll be right there.”

  Slowly, he stands, but not without pulling me with him. “Casia,” he sighs. “I couldn’t say anything, if the press gets wind of my whereabouts they’ll flock to this town, and it will be a nightmare.”

  I look into his eyes, and the confidence I don’t usually possess, I say, “Instead of giving me an excuse, give me one truth, Bjørn. Just one.”

  “In the week I’ve been here, I’ve walked past this diner every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. I’ve watched you walk home almost every night, but I’ve been too chickenshit to come in and talk to you.”

  “Why?”

  He scratches the side of his face, and swallows. “Because I was afraid you’d figure out who I am and want something from me like everyone else. And I didn’t want to risk it because you are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I should have been home four days ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Not until I had the courage to talk to you. I asked you on a date because I couldn’t bear the thought of not asking you before I have to leave.”

  I want to believe him. My heart pleads with me to do so.

  “And now? Have you come to say goodbye?” Because if so, I’m not sure I can bear it. It would have been better for me if he’d left without a word. I enjoyed his company far too much, and if I hadn’t already believed myself to be out of his league, finding out he’s European royalty would have certainly cemented the fact.

  “Not exactly.” He licks his lips. “I don’t want to leave without you, Casia. Which, yes, sounds crazy because last night was the first time we spoke, but I was right. I knew when I met you that I’d find what I’ve been looking for, an imperfect person who I connected with as a person, and not as my title. You are the most real person I’ve met on my travels. And I want us to explore what this could be.”

  I nibble on my bottom lip, unsure about whether to believe him. My head says no, but again, my heart says go. And it says grab this opportunity to get away from your life in Salida and find something better.

  “So,” he exhales, his mouth tilting up on one side. “Will you come with me? Will you leave all this behind and take a chance with me?”

  “I’d have to meet your mother,” I reply lamely, already knowing I’m losing the battle against my logic. “I’ve never met a queen before, and what if she doesn’t like me? Aren’t you, like, engaged to another royal or something?” At least that’s how I think it works.

  “No, we’re a bit more progressive than that,” he chuckles. “Besides, I’ve told my mother I’m driving back to New York and only then will I fly home. That’s plenty of time to prepare you for meeting my family. But you have to say yes first.”

  “And if I say yes? What will I do while you’re preparing to become king?” I did some research. As the only son, and heir to the throne, Bjørn will be getting ready to take his father’s place as king. Does he expect me to just sit around while he runs a small country? The fact that I’m even entertaining this is ludicrous, but even so, I’d go absolutely mad if I’m not busy with something. Most women in this position get involved with charities and the like, but I have a dream of my own, and however far-fetched it feels right now, I won’t give it up for anyone. Not even a prince.

  “We have an art school, Casia. A very good one. You can pursue your dream of making clothes, and whatever else you want.”

  My head is spinning, and it’s a wonder I manage to ask, “Why me, Bjørn?”

  He cups my cheek, and the warmth of his palm makes my skin prickle with awareness.

  “When my father got sick, we spoke about my future,” he explains. “Obviously, I must become king, but when I asked him about what I should do about a wife, he said, you’ll know when you see her, like I did with your mother. She wasn’t from a royal family, Casia. She was an art teacher my father met on the very same road trip I’ve been on, and like me, he knew the moment he saw her that his life wouldn’t be the same if she wasn’t in it. I saw you, and I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I just felt it, whatever it is my father felt for my mother and couldn’t explain to me. His dying wish was that I’d find what he had with my mother, and I believe I’ve found it.”

  The diner is deathly quiet, save for the sound of my breathing. I blink and realize my eyes had grown wet when he started talking about his parents.

  “What do you say, Casia? Run away with me.”

  Shirley shouts, “Go, Casia! Don’t be a wimp!”

  I laugh then and place my hand over Bjørn’s. “Okay, Prince Charming. I’ll run away with you, but on one condition.”

  “Name it,” he says, grinning. “Anything.”

  “I don’t want to be in the same car as Ivan and his she-devil. Please.”

  He barks out a laugh, and replies, “I think I can swing that.”

  That day, I untied my apron, threw it on the floor and walked out without ever looking back. Now, three years later, Bjørn is waiting for me outside the art school, leaning against his mustang. His grin is still cocky, he still has an attitude, and to everyone else he’s King Bjørn. But to me? He’s just Bjørn. Oh, and my husband.

  About Robin Ash & Tamsyn Bester

  Robin Ash is Ashleigh Giannoccaro’s pen name. It’s where her funny bone lives. After years on the dark side of romance Ash decided it was time to laugh at love. Who better to do it with then her best friend and partner in book crimes.

  International Bestseller Tamsyn Bester, has joined forces with her best friend to create some sexy laughs and characters to swoon over. Hold onto your knickers, because they might just fall off ;)

  Be My Girl

  BY: B.L. OLSON

  Chapter One

  BRITTA

  I was up before the sun this morning with a travel mug of coffee, an epic revenge plan, and a flamingo. Although for the sake of accuracy, I should probably report that it was not exactly a single flamingo but rather a whole flock of them. Or as a flock of flamingos is called, a flamboyance. I’m also obligated to tell you that none of them were alive; no flamingos were hurt for the sake of this little operation.

  No, instead they were mostly made from cheap plastic. I also found some ceramic monstrosities at the local dollar store, and a few metal ones at a hardware store along with a plastic birdbath. Basically, if it was a bright pink bird with knobby, stick-like legs, it ended up in my cart when I was in the prepping phase.

  I admit there was a short second, just a blip really, during planning where I considered tracking down a live flock of ‘em to drive the whole revenge thing home. It’s not enough just to stab my target, I wanted to twist that knife reeeeaaalllll good. But really, that just seemed cruel to the flamboyant birds and also way too rich for my blood.

  A wealthy woman I am not.

  My credit card was weeping after all the purchases, but at least my anger and sorrow abated a smidge. That’s kind of why I concocted this whole revenge plan, to stop feeling sorry for myself. Usually, that’s not who I am.

  I am not a victim, nor am I a woman to stand aside when she has been wronged. Let’s just say I fell under the charm of a man who knows how to wield it. It happens, it occurred to me, and this is me moving on from that topic.

  So anywhoozle, this plan I concocted meant I was the proud owner of about two-hundred plastic flamingo lawn ornaments, four ceramic sculptures, a cheap plastic bird bath with flamingos on the base that was moveable, thank God (and did I mention cheap?), and the half a dozen metal flamingos I found at the hardware store.

  After I’d gotten my hands on every flamingo in the entire stinking county, it was time to put the second phase into action. The one where I oh so casually snuck onto my ex-boyfriend's property before dawn and “helped” my little flock of revenge flamingos descend on the front lawn to cause mayhem.

  You’re probably failing to see why this is such a big deal. I mean, flamingos? Maxing out your credit card? Are you sure we shouldn’t be worried about your mental state right now or your maturity level? I promise you, the only mental issues I have right now are from dealing with the fact that I gave my all to a guy who didn’t deserve it.

  Maybe I should back up a little bit? That might help put things into perspective for you, and hey, maybe you will even appreciate the efforts that have gone into a plan that includes revenge flamingos.

  Let’s get the introductions out of the way. How do you do? My name is Britta Jones. I know, BJ… I don’t know what the hell my mom was thinking, but here we are. And also, I am not usually so formal but I am about to tell you about a moment where I wasn’t exactly my best. So you know, politeness and formality are my go-to strategy here.

  How are you doing so far? Haven’t backed out yet because you’re sure you’re in the presence of madness? If you’re still here with me, yay you.

  Last month, well, I found out about the other woman. Nothing like walking into his office only to find his receptionist on her knees and tucked under his desk. I mean, how disgustingly cliche can you get?

  I had been so wrapped up dealing with the pressures of life that I missed all the signs, apparently. More important things too, like bills and my little sister's junior year of high school, my mom's treatment for her breast cancer, and also the never ending maintenance required on my car because of all the driving.

  My revenge plan wasn’t devised entirely because I was cheated on, I am going to put that out there right now. It occurs often enough and to better people than me, and like I said I am no victim. It was more about how he handled the situation when I found them that instigated this whole revenge plot of mine.

  Shall I recap for you? If you don’t think my actions are justified, then you can quit right after and part ways with me. Sound like a deal?

  It was a Wednesday; I remember because it was Hump Day and we hadn’t humped in a while and I was hoping for a little office nooky. Maybe spicing things up a little would help get things moving - or rather get us humping. I was also secretly hoping to meet someone from his life, be it a co-worker or his brother who runs the family firm.

  I breezed past the empty receptionist’s desk, something I didn’t consider until after the fact, and let myself into his office. I didn’t notice anything amiss at first, and he didn’t look at me with concern or show any paranoia at being caught, literally, with his pants down. A moment later though, things came into focus very quickly.

  I began to notice his heavy breathing, the sheen of sweat on his brow and above his lip, and his blown pupils. It was when I spotted a pair of heels peeking out from under his desk that the confusion became overshadowed by rage.

  “What the fuck?” I raged and gestured wildly at the woman under his desk who kept going. “What the hell, Josh?”

  He gave me that cocky smile of his, the one I used to enjoy but quickly became toxic, and responded with nonchalance, “What did you expect?”

  I stuttered, “Excuse me?” When he takes a quick intake of breath, I know he is close to coming. I have seen that face many times and know that breath all too well. I shout at the pair, “Can you freaking stop!?”

  Josh murmured something to his receptionist Kady, who must have stopped, given the annoyed expression that formed on his face, but she didn't back out from under the desk. When his eyes came back to mine, they were cold. Shut down. Not capable of care or empathy for the fact that I had walked in on him being blown by his freaking employee!

  And if I thought his eyes were cruel, it said nothing of the words he spoke, “I only dated you because of those DSL’s (dick-sucking lips for those of you not in the know) and you couldn’t even do that properly. Considering your initials are BJ and you have the perfect lips for it, I figured I hit the jackpot, but I can barely stay hard enough for you to give me one.”

  I gaped at him and I felt my eyes go comically wide. I must have looked like one of those overly exaggerated cartoon characters with their jaw on the floor and eyes bulging out of their heads. Except I am not a cartoon character. I am a very real woman with a heart that beats on the inside instead of out. You know, when it’s not shattering into splinters and shards in her chest.

  So, I did what I would like to think any normal girl would do when they are put into my position. I decided to get freaking even. He wants to tear me down, shame me, and rip my pride from me? Oh no, not going to happen, Bucko.

  The entire operation was born when I received an invitation in the mail. The one for a housewarming party hosted by Josh and his new girl/receptionist from hell, Kady. Logically, I knew they sent it for nefarious reasons. You know, poke at a wound that only just started healing.

  Once that invitation showed up, there was no going back, though. I didn’t have to think hard over the best way to get even, and since I’m not paying the loser’s bills anymore while he gambled his earnings away, I even had some extra cash to spend on my little revenge.

  And yes, I am aware I am a sucker. My therapist is already all over it.

  You see, Josh has this little secret. He’s afraid of flamingos. As in, will scream like a serial killer is bearing down on him with a butcher knife and then run away like the little bitch he is, scared. A flamingo once attacked him while on vacation as a kid, and let’s just say he is traumatized.

  It even has a name, this phobia of his: flamingophobia. When he humored me and we went to the zoo, he wouldn’t even go near the flamingo exhibit, fearing for his life. Anytime they came on the TV, he would turn it off. Anything with a flamingo in it or on it was a no go.

  What a baby. I can’t believe I saw a future with that asshat.

  So yeah, I got up early and flamingoed his yard, which is exactly what it sounds like. There was so much pink that the green of his lawn was almost non-existent in the darkness of early morning.

  My next move was to show up for the party. While I knew they didn’t expect me to take them up on their offer of attendance, I wanted to know how things went down when Operation Flamingo was discovered.

  But now that I’m here, rubbing elbows with friends he never bothered to introduce me to and family members who I never got to meet, I’m second guessing my decision. The only thing going for me and my nerves is the fact that they don’t know who I am, and that works for me just fine.

  I strut around that party like I belong here because I was invited, thankyouverymuch. Look at me, all nonchalance and not an anxious ball of nervousness. Everything is all peachy here. I belong at this event and most certainly had nothing to do with the fact that the yard was a wreckage of half pulled flamingos and ceramic shards when I arrived.

  Insert internal glee here.

  I am slowly becoming more confident in myself and my surroundings, that is until my eyes meet those of a tall, serious man across the room. He gazes at me fiercely, an intensity in his eyes so severe that it brings me up short. The pull to cross the room to join him is almost magnetic and builds in potency the longer we stare and contemplate the other.

  His dark eyes swirl with need and appreciation and it's just… holy shit, it’s a lot to take in.

  Who is this guy? And why the hell am I suddenly feeling flush and wet in places I have no business being over simple eye contact? The one phase of my plan I didn’t come up with a contingency for was needing a change of panties. I wish I could have anticipated the need for them because I could definitely use them right about now, holy hell.

  I lower my gaze and take him in, intent on avoiding further eye contact and the uneasy feelings that it inspired. I don’t trust my body not to spontaneously combust from a simple look, and the fact that I am so close already has internal alarms ringing within me.

  The man in question is tall, so tall that he towers over everyone in the room. It’s almost comical that I didn’t pick him out immediately in my scan of the crowd between his size and vehement gaze. His dark hair, almost black but not quite, is cut shorter on the sides and longer on top. It looks a little disheveled, like his fingers have been running through it.

  His jaw is sharp and his cheekbones are *chefs kiss*. He has broad shoulders, a chest that is no doubt just as chiseled as the rest of him, a tapered waist, seams straining on the arms of his shirt, and if I had to guess, an ass that just will not quit.

  Again I ask, who is this freaking guy and why am I more focused on him than Operation Flamingo?

  He shifts suddenly and begins striding towards me with concentrated purpose. Oh fuckity fuck, do I want to know what is on his mind? He is looking at me like the catered food isn’t to his satisfaction and he wants to feast on me.

  If he keeps staring at me with such heat and lust, I just might let him.

  I attempt to pull myself together in anticipation of his arrival by willing the heat to recede from my veins and my incredibly wet panties to dry out. I’ve never in my life once experienced this much of a visceral reaction to anyone, and it’s making me extremely off-center and a lot disoriented. It honestly feels as if my entire world was deconstructed when our eyes met and wasn’t put back together the proper way.